The Boy
by gubernaculum
Summary: Sorry I'm rubbish at summaries. Some family secrets don't stay buried because they shouldn't. (Sixteenth installment in a series)
1. Chapter 1

Over the past six months, Fish and Henry had gone places and seen things Fish had never dreamed or even realised existed. It had been a wonderful adventure. Best of all, Fish had a lot of time with his sister and her family. Right now, it was the middle of a cool, wet spring day. It was so characteristically Cardiff and after six months abroad, Fish found it comforting. He'd never tell Henry, but he was glad to be home.

Even though he was back in Cardiff, Fish was taking his time returning to work. They'd been home two weeks and Fish hadn't set foot back inside the Hub yet. He would be easing back into it, returning for only part of the week and without his field clearance. Normally, Fish itched to get back into it, but not this time. His return to Torchwood was something he met with mixed emotions. He was eager and apprehensive all at the same time.

Their whole time abroad, Henry hadn't hidden his feelings about it. He'd ben more subtle at first, but Henry felt Fish had been through enough and should take Jack's offer and leave. But Fish didn't want to do that. Torchwood was something that got into your blood and seeped into your bones. Now that Fish knew and had a taste of it, he couldn't go off and do some other job somewhere. More than that, he didn't want what had happened to chase him away. He wanted to be more than his trauma. He didn't want to be a victim.

The time away had been sorely needed. The flashbacks had ended. The nightmares had become less and less frequent. At first, when he'd been able to fall asleep, he'd woken up screaming almost every time, bathed in sweat. While they'd travelled, seeing a regular counselor had been impossible, but Fish had kept in contact with a UNIT counselor, Doctor Angel Vasquez.

Truthfully, Fish had always though the idea of therapy was a bit rubbish. His mother had forced him to see a therapist after his father had been killed by a drunk driver and all the bloke had done was take his mother's hard earned money and listen to Fish talk. Fish hadn't been keen on the idea of more therapy, but he'd changed his tune. Vasquez hadn't stopped at Fish's captivity and torture. As his PTSD had improved, the counselor had delved into other aspects of Fish's past, helping him work through other issues as they'd come up in their phone sessions.

So, when he'd spoken about his failed wedding and the unexpected crumbling of his relationship with Olivia, it had surprised him that the counselor had been struck dumb. He'd taken on this new issue with as much fervor as he had Fish's PTSD. It had sent Fish a serious message about the whole thing.

Olivia Marie Porter had done a serious fucking number on him. It was just one of those things that he'd integrated into himself and it didn't matter that he'd moved on or that he was married to someone else. It would always feel raw when he thought about it, but he'd thought he'd done a good job of handling it. Vasquez had enlightened him that there were still issues. He did need therapy to help him work through the lingering remains of what Olivia had left behind.

Which was why he had he sent Henry off to his studio to paint, so that he could sit on their sofa and stare at a disintegrating, manky cardboard box with 'Olivia' scrawled on the side.

It was a box that he had held onto for eleven years.

The cardboard was worn around the edges and a bit crushed on one side. The black marker of Olivia's name was scuffed and faded. Inside was a hodgepodge of items. There were some clothes and some knickknacks. There were a few papers, a couple CDs, a lot of loose photographs and some old bills. There was even some jewelry. For a few years after their break up, Fish would receive a polite letter or e-mail every few months asking for an item's return. If it was in the box, Fish would pack it and send it back to her. If it wasn't, he would tell her so and that would be the end of it. Eventually, those requests had slowed and then stopped.

When he'd first told Henry about the box, his lover had stated the obvious to him. Why hadn't he just sent the entire box to her with the very first request? Fish hadn't been able to answer the question. When the requests had stopped, Fish hadn't thrown the thing out. Even though he was married to someone else, he still couldn't do it. Henry had been understanding. When they'd moved in together, he hadn't said a word when Fish had slid it into the back of the guest room closet.

But having the box in their home had always felt wrong to Fish. It was a piece of a failed relationship, of a woman who had broken his heart, living in his home with the love of his life. He'd been trying to throw the damned thing away ever since he'd met Henry. Nearly half a dozen times the box had sat out only for him to slide it back into that closet again. The last time was shortly after their first wedding anniversary.

Now their second was approaching and the bloody thing had to go. It was time. It was beyond time. He didn't want it to end up in Torchwood storage or for Henry to have to deal with it. Fish was so determined this time that the box had been sitting in their lounge ever since they'd gotten home from Australia two weeks ago.

During their last phone session, Vasquez had hit the nail on the head, telling Fish that he was a scientist. It was part of who he was to be a problem solver and figure out the why of things. And here was one situation where he couldn't do that. He hadn't thrown the box away because it represented hope that one day he'd find out exactly what had happened. The box was his closure and his white whale.

 _Call me Ahab…_ Fish scrubbed at his face. He picked up his laptop, and in a gross misuse of Torchwood resources, he tapped Olivia's name and national insurance number into the computer program. He tried not to read into the fact that he still remembered her national insurance number. It didn't take long for it to return a hit.

He smiled. Olivia Marie Porter was now Olivia Marie Dumont. Olivia had remarried… well, not remarried, just married since she'd technically never married him. And she was a mother? Now _that_ surprised him. He and Olivia had vowed never to have children. Fish was glad that she'd found a measure of happiness especially when he was so over the moon with Henry.

With another smile, Fish saw that his ex-fiancée was living in Cardiff. He was surprised they'd never run into each other. With the dangers of life as a Torchwood field operative, Fish had been in hospital more times than he'd liked to remember and Olivia was a nurse. He picked up his mobile and dialed, feeling butterflies in his stomach. He thought he was a bit daft for doing this, but he'd held onto this box for years. Vasquez was right. It was time to let it go properly, not toss it into the rubbish bin, but face the reason he'd held onto the bloody thing for so many years in the first place.

"Hello?" a cheery voice asked.

"Umm… Hi, Livie…" Fish stammered. "It's-"

"JOE?!" she nearly screamed.

Fish winced. She sounded nearly panicked. Fish couldn't blame her. If he was in her shoes right now, he'd be panicked too. "Yeah, it's me. How are you, Livie?"

"I'm… I'm fine, Joe… What's umm… Umm… what's this all about?" she asked. She _was_ panicked. Fish felt badly for doing this. He wondered if he should have sent an e-mail or done something more indirect.

"I just… I've got this box with some of your things. And I was hoping I could… you know… maybe… give it back," he stammered. He started picking at a loose thread on his jeans. When he'd only thought it out in his head it had sounded kind of daft but now that he'd said it aloud it sounded completely fucking insane.

"You… what?" she asked with disbelief.

"Look, I know it sounds mental - me ringing out of nowhere like this after all this time about some box-"

"A bit, yeah," she said, a little amused. The panic had faded.

"-but I was hoping we could talk too."

"Talk?" the panic returned.

Fish picked at a pill on his jumper, twisting it nervously in his fingers. "Just about… us… what happened and everything…"

"Are you all right, Joe? You're not sick or something are you?" she asked, concerned.

Fish let out a nervous laugh. "No, I'm not sick, Livie. I just… I just wanted to talk. If you don't, that's fine. I'll just send on these things if you don't mind."

"It's been eleven years, Joe," she said, wary. "I'm sure that I can do without anything you still have."

"I know. I just feel bad chucking it out…" _the way you chucked out me…_ "Look, my anniversary is at the end of June-"

"And your wife wants my things out of your house already?" she offered, amused again.

"No," he said with a laugh. After all the pain and heartache Olivia had caused him, he decided to play a bit of a dirty trick on her. An evil grin broke out over his face. Very clearly, he said, "My _husband_ doesn't have a problem with it."

"What?" she asked, shocked. "Your… husband? Did you say husband?"

He tried his best to keep the growing laughter out of his voice and to sound like he was on a very angry tirade. Picturing the offended and scandalized look on Henry's face, Fish tried to put on a more stereotypical lisp and lightness to his voice. "Look, after everything went tits up with you, I swore off women and went bender-"

"Joe…"

"-completely gay-"

"Joe…"

"-a gigantic poof, really-"

"Joe."

"-and after a lot of therapy and medication-"

"Joe!"

"-I realised it was all because of you-"

"Joe!"

"-and it was for the best because I really enjoy being done up the arse-"

"JOE!"

He couldn't keep it going. He broke down laughing. "I had you for a minute there didn't I?"

"Joseph David Fischer! That was _not_ funny!" she snapped.

That tugged on a memory. Olivia used to call him by his full name in that tone of voice when she was angry with him, like she was his mother. It had always annoyed him to no end. Now, it made him smile nostalgically.

Still laughing, he said, "Oh c'mon, Livie, it was a little funny."

Olivia sighed deeply. Fish could picture the exasperation on her face, the furrow to her brow and the thinness of her mouth. She said, a little frightful, "I suppose I deserved that and more."

Fish turned serious. "Honestly, Livie, I don't want to go through it over the phone. I'd like for us to be adults about this and have a serious chat. If you don't want to, that's fine."

She didn't answer him and, once again, Fish could picture her in his mind. He'd bet anyone a thousand quid that Olivia was biting at her cuticles, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"I've moved on, Joe," she said, softly.

"I know. It's not my intention to stir up the past, if you've buried it. I'm not trying to make you feel bad but…" he trailed off and sighed deeply. "I know it's been a long time and that I'm with someone else, but I haven't been able to put it to bed yet. Not really. Not as much as I'd like. I know that makes me sound pathetic or a nutter or something but it's the truth. I don't want to disrupt your life, Livie. I don't want to upset your husband or your son-"

Angry, Olivia interrupted him. "You know, Joe, at first you having my mobile was just a little odd. Now? This is just plain creepy. Are you stalking me-"

"No, Livie," Fish insisted. He said, quickly, "I work for the government. I just… I looked you up in a database for your address and number. Your husband and your son came up automatically. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have done. I swear, I didn't look any further. I just want to hand you a box, have a bit of a chat and go. You'll never have to see me ever again. Cross my heart."

 _Bugger all!_ The moment those three words were out of his mouth, Fish grimaced and wanted to take them back. The phrase had spilled out automatically. It had been something that had started on their very first date. Fish had shyly kissed the back of Olivia's hand. She'd asked him if he would ring her tomorrow and Fish had said, 'Cross my heart…' It had become a phrase of affection between them. It was their version of 'I love you'.

In a soft voice, Olivia said, "Tuesday at noon. You have my address. I'll see you then, Joe."


	2. Chapter 2

I apologize for doing this. As some of you may know, I only begin to post a story once it is nearly completed. Unfortunately, as I began editing the story that comes after this, I noticed a significant plot hole in the larger story arch of the series that must be corrected before I continue. This story is now on hold while I correct a significant timeline error.


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